Homes need to be built for better internet
I have the privilege of knowing how to troubleshoot this stuff on my own largely due to my profession as a tech journalist. To others, this stuff is a foreign language. Knowing how to set up a home internet system is not a skill everyone has, and the complicated steps required to do it properly make moving to a new place more stressful, especially if you work remotely and need the internet to earn a paycheck.
Sphere and Loathing in Las Vegas
Such is the power of the Sphere; at the exact moment you ask yourself What exactly are we all doing here?, the building morphs into a Dali-esque rendering of Elvis, your brain floods with dopamine, and you lose your critical faculties.
And what an excellent title.
Simple circuitry, surprising engineering: Inside counterfeit Apple gadgets
“It’s a real testament to how far the entire kind of electronics ecosystem has come that you could create a knockoff that’s actually this sophisticated. This is way less sophisticated than a real Apple product, but compared to what any earbuds would have done 15 years ago, this is giant.”
Flies in Urinals: The Value of Design Disruptions
I discovered my favorite example of disruptive design about 10 years ago, between flights at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport. This was not a slick new airline logo that attracted new customers or an innovative wayfinding system that helped people find their flights. It was the realistic image of a small black fly inside the white urinals in the men’s bathroom. When I first saw the fly, I wondered why it stayed put. Then I looked to the empty urinal next to me and spotted the same fly. They all had them. In response to dirty bathrooms caused by men urinating on the floor, an airport maintenance worker suggested that they etch the image onto the urinals to give men something to aim at as they hurry to and from flights. According to NPR science correspondent Robert Krulwich, who gave a fuller account of the story, the man thought back to his time serving in the Dutch army during the 1960s, when red dots had been painted on the latrines in the barracks to improve cleanliness. Sure enough, spillage rates in the airport men’s room dropped an estimated 80 percent after the fly was introduced, leading to a much cleaner bathroom.
I thought to compare the text on the page to the text on my screen. Word for word, they were exactly the same. I was shocked. What happened? Why did a text that read so well in galleys read so shambolically online?
The uniquely powerful insight of the 20th-century discipline of cultural anthropology as formulated by the great French thinker Claude Levi-Straus was that culture is a closed system. A tribal mask hanging on the wall of a hut in Africa or New Guinea has meaning within the culture of the tribe that produced it, which is bound up with their social structures and cosmology. Hang the same mask next to a Picasso in a white-walled room in MOMA, and it becomes a different object, embedded within the cultural system that contains 20th-century Western art. Culturally speaking, the two masks are wildly and indeed irreconcilably different from each other—even if, physically speaking, they are the same mask.
So too with the act of reading. Like every other human activity, reading is a culturally bound activity, whose meaning is determined by its relation to the larger cultural system in which it occurs.
Working in both online and print journalism, this resonates.
The former always feels tinny and thin given its context in the sheer enormity of the internet. Text on a screen is always merely text on a screen. Ephemeral.
Print, though merely ink on a page, holds up.
Horace Dediu: ‘The Value of a Customer’ via Daring Fireball
The average iPhone customer is 7.4 times as valuable as an Android user. That’s remarkable, but not surprising.
I know very few Android users these days, but those I do share a common refrain: “tech is too complicated, so why would I pay more for an iPhone?” Never having used an iPhone, they become used to a certain…lack of polish. Case-in-point: for the first decade of Android, scrolling on the devices was awful. Jittery, jumpy… Compare that to the very first iPhone, which nailed smooth scrolling right off the bat.
Like using a Mac, the joy and delight (and I use both of those words intentionally) of an iPhone is not in the tasks you accomplish with it (you can, after all, take a photo with an Android, or send a text, or browse the web), but the million little in-between interactions. Opening an app. Swiping to go home. The speed at which FaceID unlocks your phone. The little thoughtful, playful animations of the Dynamic Island. All those interactions add up.
They add up to customers that deeply and perhaps subconsciously satisfied. And people who are satisfied are far more likely to use their phone. It so happens that most people use their phone to, well, buy stuff.
Me? I spent a good deal of money on software for my iPhone, iPad, and Mac. I buy apps that are thoughtfully designed by creative people. (Lumy is a recent find that I just adore.) And, notably, I’m happy to do so. For that, I credit Apple.
Everything I know about floppy disks
Floppy disk drives are curious things. We know them as the slots that ingest those small almost-square plastic “floppy disks” and we only really see them now in Computer Museums. But there’s a lot going on in that humble square of plastic and I wanted to write down what I’ve learned so far.
(Open this on a mobile device, not a laptop or desktop.)
The McMansion as harbinger of the American apocalypse
In the wake of the recession, the United States declined the opportunity to meaningfully transform the financial system on which our way of life is based. The breach was patched with taxpayer money, the system was restored, and we resumed our previous trajectory. The McMansion survived what could have been an existential crisis; it remains an unimpeachable symbol of having “made it” in a world where advancement is still measured in ostentation.
One day we will look at five-thousand-square-foot McMansions and Hummers and desert golf courses the same way we look now at thalidomide: a ginormous fuck up. That’s assuming we manage to plan for the future and come through a political fight antithetical to the mortal coil of capitalism: late, fossil, or otherwise.
A group is its own worst enemy
Now, suddenly, when you create software, it isn’t sufficient to think about making it possible to communicate; you have to think about making communication socially successful. In the age of usability, technical design decisions had to be taken to make software easier for a mass audience to use; in the age of social software, design decisions must be taken to make social groups survive and thrive and meet the goals of the group even when they contradict the goals of the individual.
There’s this very complicated moment of a group coming together, where enough individuals, for whatever reason, sort of agree that something worthwhile is happening, and the decision they make at that moment is “This is good and must be protected.” And at that moment, even if it’s subconscious, you start getting group effects. And the effects that we’ve seen come up over and over and over again in online communities.
Of the things you have to accept, the first is that you cannot completely separate technical and social issues. There are two attractive patterns for thinking about the intersection of social and technological issues. One says, “We’ll handle technology over here, we’ll do social issues there. We’ll have separate mailing lists with separate discussion groups, or we’ll have one track here and one track there.” This doesn’t work; you can’t separate the two.